From Geoffrey Chaucer's "The Canterbury Tales", The Clerk's Tale, lines 540-574

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From The Clerk's Tale, lines 526-539:
The sergeant says to Griselda he has come to take the child

From The Canterbury Tales:
The Clerk's Tale
lines 540-574: Griselda gives her child a goodbyekiss and the sergeant leaves with the child

540	Suspecious was the diffame of this man,
	Suspect his face, suspect his word also,
	Suspect the tyme in which he this bigan.
	Allas, hir doghter that she loved so!
	She wende he wolde han slawen it right tho;
545	But nathelees she neither weep ne syked,
	Conformynge hir to that the markys lyked.

540	Suspicious of repute was this same man,
	Suspect his face, suspect his word also,
	Suspect the time when this thing he began,
	Alas! Her daughter that she had loved so,
	She thought he'd slay it right there, whether or no.
545	Nevertheless, she neither wept nor sighed,
	Doing the marquis' liking though she died.

But atte laste speken she bigan,

And mekely she to the sergeant preyde,

So as he was a worthy gentil man,

550 That she moste kisse hire child, er that it deyde,

And in hir barm this litel child she leyde,

With ful sad face, and gan the child to kisse,

And lulled it, and after gan it blisse.

At last she found her voice and thus began

And meekly to the sergeant then she prayed

That, as he was a worthy, gentle man,

550 She might kiss her child once before his blade;

And on her breast this little child she laid,

With sad face, and so kissed it and did press

And lulled it and at last began to bless.

And thus she seyde in hir benigne voys,

555 "Fareweel, my child, I shal thee nevere see,

But sith I thee have marked with the croys

Of thilke Fader blessed moote thou be,

That for us deyde upon a croys of tree.

Thy soule, litel child, I hym bitake,

560 For this nyght shaltow dyen for my sake."

And thus she said in her benignant voice:

555 "Farewell, my child that I no more shall see;

But now I've crossed you thus, I will rejoice

That of the Father blessed may you be,

Who died for us upon the bitter tree.

Your soul, my little child, to Him I give;

560 This night you die for my sake- though I live."

I trowe, that to a norice in this cas

It had been hard this reuthe for to se;

Wel myghte a mooder thanne han cryd `allas!'

But nathelees so sad and stidefast was she,

565 That she endured al adversitee,

And to the sergeant mekely she sayde,

"Have heer agayn your litel yonge mayde."

I think that to a nurse in such a case

It had been hard this pitiful thing to see;

Well might a mother then have cried "Alas!"

But so steadfastly serious was she

565 That she endured all her adversity,

And to the sergeant she but meekly said:

"I give you now again your little maid.

"Gooth now," quod she, "and dooth my lordes heeste;

But o thyng wol I prey yow of youre grace,

570 That, but my lord forbad yow atte leeste,

Burieth this litel body in son place

That beestes ne no briddes it torace."

But he no word wol to that purpos seye,

But took the child, and wente upon his weye.

"Go now," said she, "and do my lord's behest,

But one thing will I pray you, of your grace,

570 That, save my lord forbade you, at the least

Bury this little body in some place

Where beasts nor birds will tear its limbs and face."

But no word to that purpose would he say,

But took the child and went upon his way.

Next:
From The Clerk's Tale, lines 575-595:
Walter orders the sergeant to bring the child secretly to Bologna